


oblivion

by saigen



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Emotionally Constipated Thanatos, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saigen/pseuds/saigen
Summary: When Zagreus falls into the Lethe and loses his memory, Thanatos makes the decision to not tell him about their relationship.But, as the one who remembers, he's the one who has to live with that.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62
Collections: Hades Rural Dionysia Exchange





	oblivion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Armaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armaria/gifts).



Thanatos finds Zagreus on a mossy riverbank in Elysium, the rod of fishing clenched in his right hand, a vague, troubled frown on his face, absolutely soaking wet. 

“Death is inescapable,” Thanatos says, as he does, and Zagreus starts at the sound of his voice as though the telltale gong hadn’t signaled his entrance just like it did the past three dozen or so times they’ve done this. There’s something a little off about the way he looks around wildly, like he’s searching for the source of the words in the previously empty space, and then blinks at Thanatos when his eyes settle on him. 

It’s a surprising expression on his face, to say the least. Surprising because it seems, in part, surprised itself, Zagreus’s eyebrows raised high and his lips parted. It’s not like this isn’t a regular haunt of Thanatos’s these days, so he’s not entirely sure what that’s all about. Zagreus shouldn’t be surprised to see him here. 

But as quickly as Thanatos registers it, it smooths out and disappears into something a little more predictable and familiar: a warm, approachable smile. 

“Oh, hello there,” says Zagreus. “Do you think you could help me out?”

“That’s what I always come all this way for, isn’t it?” Thanatos replies, toes skimming the lush grass as he floats closer. 

As he does, he notices Zagreus’s gaze rake him from his feet to his hood, conspicuously catching in the middle to linger on his partially-exposed chest. It’s not like Thanatos has never seen Zagreus looking at him like this before, but it is the first time he’s done it so openly. Weirdly, he’s looking a little dumbstruck, like he’s never seen Thanatos’s skin before. From anyone else, it would make Thanatos feel almost violated, the way he’s staring. From Zagreus, it just stirs up a molten warmth in the pit of his stomach. 

Regardless, the expression morphs again when he registers Thanatos’s words, this time to confusion. 

“Always?” Zagreus repeats, hesitating. “Do I know you?”

“That’s a funny joke, Zag,” Thanatos says, letting the sarcasm in his voice tell him  _ exactly _ how funny it is. 

“Zag…,” Zagreus says. “Wait, Than, is that you? Oh, blood and darkness, Than, I mean this in the most respectful way possible but you’ve become rather attractive since last I saw you.”

Is this some strange new method of flirting? Some game he’s supposed to play along with? Thanatos doesn’t know whether to be irritated or embarrassed. His cheeks choose the latter without his permission, growing hot. 

“I know exactly how attractive you find me,” Thanatos says shortly, since Zagreus tends not to make a secret of it when they’re in bed together. 

But he’s frowning again. Actually, they’re both frowning at each other. Thanatos feels like he’s missing something. 

“Erm, anyway,” Zagreus says. “I would appreciate it a lot if you could help me, Than. I think I’m lost.”

Thanatos’s brow crinkles. He knows the path to the surface isn’t an easy one. He knows it’s full of dangerous traps and shifting chambers and shades bent on sending Zagreus back to the house in the most painful way possible. But Zagreus, in all of his attempts to break free, has never gotten  _ lost _ . 

“This is Elysium, isn’t it?” Zagreus goes on. “I’m not quite sure how to get back home from here. Or actually, what I’m meant to be doing here in the first place, now that I think about it. Could you possibly point me in the right direction?”

“You  _ want _ to go home?” Thanatos says in shock before the rest of the statement can catch up to him. 

Thanatos looks from Zagreus’s troubled eyes to the water droplets collecting and dripping from the tips of his dark hair to the pole in his hand to the cloudy white river flowing nearby.  _ Blood and darkness. _

“Zagreus,” he says. “Think back. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Zagreus tilts his head. “Well, I just climbed out of that river over there. And before that, I was…. Hm. I….” His expression furrows in concentration. “I don’t remember. It’s all blank. All the way since childhood.”

Zagreus is someone who occasionally makes stupid decisions, but he is not a stupid person, even, apparently, in his current state. He glances down towards the river running at his burning feet, and apparently comes to the same conclusion that Thanatos had only seconds before. 

“We’re in Elysium,” he says. “That’s the Lethe, isn’t it?”

Thanatos tries not to let the fact that his stomach is sinking and his world is tilting show when he dryly replies, “Well, at least you remember that much.”

* * *

They make it back to the House more or less in one piece, though Zagreus goes charging into a throng of Brightswords to do it. Thanatos is there to meet him like one of the House’s tall silent architectural columns when Zagreus rises from the crimson Styx. He’s already warned Nyx, Persephone, and Hypnos of the problem with a concise, “Zagreus fell in the Lethe,” and they gather beside him at the river’s edge to greet Zagreus as he climbs the stairs. 

“Hello, everybody,” he says, looking somewhat sheepish as he flicks the blood from his hair.    
“I suppose you’d all be my friends and family.”

The chaos that follows isn’t something Thanatos particularly wants to partake in, but he also can’t quite bring himself to leave, despite the way his work beckons to him to be done. He melts into the background, watching quietly as Zagreus comments on how tall Hypnos has gotten since he last remembers him and re-meets Persephone (“Wait, you’re my mother? But I thought—”).

Nyx and Persephone both have an air of maternal worry about them, but Zagreus is physically unharmed and in good spirits, joking and smiling and chatting. It’s not as though Zagreus can die in any permanent way, so there’s no real terrible loss here. Only years’ worth of cherished memories. That’s all. 

As Zagreus hugs Persephone again, Hypnos falls back to where Thanatos has taken up station against the wall. He’s grinning his classic Hypnos grin. 

“Isn’t this great?” Hypnos says. “I get to become best friends with Zagreus all over again!” 

Thanatos can think of a lot of words to describe this situation. Not one of them is  _ great _ . 

“You’re not worried about him,” Thanatos says. It’s not a question. 

Hypnos laughs. “When has a little memory loss ever hurt anybody?”

Thanatos’s hand tightens around the shaft of his scythe, and he looks at the angle of Zagreus’s shoulder blade, the way his dark hair sweeps over his forehead and ears. Thanatos is a god and doesn’t have to breathe, but he swears he feels the air go out of his lungs. 

When Thanatos was young he came to terms with the fact that he was going to be alone for all eternity. Not that he ever cared about that. He’s the incarnation of death after all, and everybody dies alone. He’s always had comrades he was friendly with. He’s on decent terms with Megaera. He has his mother and his brothers to speak to about the House and his duty to it. He often comes across Ares in the field and falls into conversations with him that he would not describe as unpleasant. 

And, over the years, he convinced himself that that was more than enough. What more could he, as the god of something as solitary as death, possibly need? He wasn’t lonely. Just because he was alone didn’t mean he was lacking anything more. 

It didn’t matter that there was something painful that gnawed at the edges of his chest in the rare, quiet moments he was left to think. It didn’t matter that every time he led a mortal away from the bed where they rested with a lifelong partner, something in his throat felt raw. It didn’t matter that he knew, despite his immortal lifespan, despite the fact that he would exist as long as existence continued, he would never not be alone. He would never be loved.

But then there was Zagreus. 

Zagreus had always been there beside him. They were friends as children, and remained close into adulthood. He was the one person who would— _ could _ —be beside Thanatos. And Thanatos had come to desire that from him in ways he never even truly comprehended until they were fully realized. 

But there’s a problem here now. Hypnos can become best friends with Zagreus all over again. People  _ like _ Hypnos, which is something far beyond Thanatos’s understanding. Despite all his shortcomings and failings, others enjoy having him around. Hades has never replaced him, despite frequent threats. Mother never has a harsh word for him. Zagreus smiles at him every time he rises out of the Styx. Hypnos can easily become best friends with Zagreus all over again with no effort beyond his typical day-to-day existence. 

For Thanatos, it’s an entirely different matter. Thanatos hasn’t forgotten the long process of it. The way he’d spent years silently watching Zagreus, too convinced of his own stationary place in Zagreus’s life to attempt to make a change. The anger that had swelled within him when Zagreus had left without a word to him. The slow, agonizing, baffling exchange of nectars and ambrosias. The nauseating embarrassment, the thoroughly mortifying words they’d had to say to each other to get to a point where their feelings were finally mutually understood. 

Which had been a miracle in its own right. It’s hard enough to talk about his own feelings and to get them across. The fact that Zagreus somehow returned them seemed, and still seems, at times, impossible. To do it again, to think that Zagreus could accept his feelings again, to imagine that Zagreus would even possibly  _ return _ them again, is unlikely. 

This isn’t  _ great _ . This isn’t Thanatos’s opportunity to have the one person who had seen fit to love him fall for him again. 

This is the end of the only romantic companionship he would ever know. 

Thanatos watches as Persephone leads Zagreus away, to speak to Hades or become reacquainted with his room, perhaps. 

Zagreus doesn’t once look back.

* * *

The next time Thanatos sees Zagreus, it’s later that day. Or night, or whatever, and Thanatos has just returned from collecting a particularly rowdy group of elderly mortals unwilling to let old age take them. He’s feeling a little worn for more reasons than one, and he isn’t quite sure what to do when he catches sight of Zagreus chatting with Hypnos in the Great Hall. 

Instead of dealing with it, he decides to veer towards the West Hall. He must not have been as subtle as he thought, because he hears the sound of footsteps on stone behind him. 

Can’t get out of this one easy, then. Thanatos pauses in his path and turns. 

“Zagreus,” he greets in a neutral tone. 

“Than,” Zagreus says. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Have you?” Thanatos replies. 

He takes a look at Zagreus, who’s looking a bit sheepish, the tips of his ears reddened. He shuffles his burning feet.

“Erm, please forget that thing I said before. I was just rather surprised.”

That thing. That thing. What thing? Zagreus has said a lot of things since Thanatos encountered him in Elysium.

“About you being attractive, I mean,” Zagreus goes on when Thanatos doesn’t immediately respond. 

Oh. Right. Yes, that thing. 

Does that mean...

Does that mean Zagreus doesn’t find Thanatos attractive any longer, then? Could it be that, with the loss of his memory, he also lost whatever it was that made him interested in Thanatos in the first place?

Thanatos wouldn’t be surprised. It was a strange one in a million chance that Zagreus had found him appealing in the first place. To do so again seems impossible. 

“Right,” Thanatos agrees, feeling his face harden into a flat expression. “I’d already forgotten it.”

Zagreus laughs. “Oh, great! Well, nice talking with you, mate!”

And then, without another word, Zagreus wanders off. 

And, almost immediately, Hypnos pops up in his place. Of course. Even on his break, Thanatos can’t find a moment of rest. This is why he loves his work. It means he doesn’t have to hang around here. 

“You haven’t  _ told _ him?” Hypnos asks with overdone incredulity. 

Thanatos doesn’t like to play dumb as a rule, but he would do anything to not have this conversation with his brother. “Told who what?” 

“Told Zag about you two! You know! How you’re in love and all that?” 

Thanatos’s stomach turns. He looks away, feeling his cheeks warm. 

“No, I haven’t told him.”

“Why not?”

“I see no reason to.”

“No  _ reason  _ to?” Hypnos repeats like one of those obnoxious, brightly-colored birds from the surface. “You’re not trying to break up with him, are you?”

Thanatos sighs. “It’s not breaking up if he has no memory of the relationship in the first place.”

Hypnos’s frown is deep and thoughtful. 

“I kinda think he should know. Don’t you think so? That he should know? Before you make any decisions involving the two of you on your own?” 

“Don’t tell him.” Thanatos glowers at him. “What does it even matter to you?”

“You’re my brother!” Hypnos says. “And he’s my best friend! So it kinda matters a lot to me I guess!”

“Well, it shouldn’t,” Thanatos replies. 

“You could at least—” Hypnos starts. 

But by this point, Thanatos has grown weary of this conversation. Not just this conversation. This problem in general, and having to think about it. Having to deal with it. So he turns and disappears, returning to his work. 

* * *

“Mother,” Thanatos says. “I’d like to ask you a question.”

Nyx doesn’t look particularly busy when Thanatos finds her regarding the flowers in the hall, but he still feels some reluctance interrupting her. Although they’re family, to be responsible for something as all-encompassing as night itself seems overwhelmingly important. More so than even Thanatos’s own duties as death. Even if there was nothing alive, and therefore nothing to die, night would still exist. 

And yet, she’s nothing but patient as she turns his way. “What is it, child?”

Thanatos shifts, almost uncomfortably. He knows his motives in asking this question are transparent, but an answer will be worth the embarrassment of it. 

“Is it possible that Zagreus will recover his memories?” he asks. 

Nyx is silent for a moment as she gazes at him, and the discomfort in Thanatos’s chest intensifies. He tries to quell the million thoughts that speed through his head in the span of her quiet, the assumptions and the anxieties and the conclusions he jumps to before she can even open her mouth. 

“I do not know,” she replies finally, “nor do the others. As his blood is mixed, mortal and god, we cannot predict how such a thing will affect him in the long term.”

This was not the answer Thanatos was hoping to hear. 

“Has he improved at all?” 

If Nyx ever showed any emotion on her face, Thanatos would say that she almost appears surprised. “Have you not asked him this yourself?”

“No,” Thanatos says. 

“Have you considered that perhaps he could benefit from your support?” she asks gently. 

“If he wants it, he hasn’t come seeking it,” Thanatos replies. 

Part of him is distantly aware that he sounds like a petulant child. That’s also the part of him that is constantly trying to convince him that he should be above all this. The hurt. The fear. The helplessness. 

It almost feels like that time all over again. When Zagreus left without a single word to him. Except then, at least, he could be angry. He could use that as a conduit for his despair. Anger felt better than giving in to the reality of his betrayal and hurt. 

But now he can’t  _ blame _ Zagreus. Perhaps he could feel irritation for the fact that he’d been clumsy enough to stumble into the Lethe in the first place, but he can recognize that that’s irrational. None of this is Zagreus’s fault. It’s not as though Zagreus made the decision to completely forget about everything he’d built with Thanatos. 

Which leaves Thanatos alone to shoulder the pain of it. 

“Do not doubt your importance to him,” Nyx says. “Although he may not be aware of it, you play a meaningful role in his life.”

Thanatos  _ played _ a meaningful role in Zagreus’s life, she means. He doesn’t give voice to the thought, though. It surprises him that he even thinks it, given the respect that he holds for his mother. But it seems to him that she is somehow wrong about this, despite being so wise about most things. 

“I sense you are lost in your negative emotions regarding this issue, my child,” Nyx goes on, “but do not let that cloud your perception of reality.”

“Yes, Mother,” Thanatos says, even if he doesn’t know how to do that.

* * *

Somehow, the passing of time and the needs of existence don’t stop just because Zagreus has lost his memories. The days go on. Mortals die, and Thanatos collects them. He tries to bury himself in his work and succeeds to a degree, but in his moments of downtime and in between tasks he finds himself drawn again and again to a place of deep sadness. These were the moments he used to spend with Zagreus. Now he spends them alone. 

Zagreus shows no sign of recovering his memories. The others around the House all show some level of worried about him, even including Hades, though he only displays it as irritation that Zagreus has not yet returned to work. But they all go on, despite it. They tell Zagreus stories and spend time with him and reintroduce him to the ins and outs of his daily life. 

Not Thanatos, though. Thanatos stays away, and stays alone. 

* * *

Thanatos does do his best to avoid Zagreus because it’s easier to ignore his feelings that way, but Zagreus is more than capable of the things he sets his mind to, which likely explains how he’s managed to reach the surface so many times. So when he appears, unannounced, at Thanatos’s side when he’s taking a break in his usual spot overlooking the Styx, Thanatos isn’t so much surprised as resigned to it. 

“Hey Than,” Zagreus says, and lowers himself into the chair that he himself paid for to put there. He has no idea that he did that. “What are you doing over here? Taking a break?”

Zagreus should know that. He’s seen Thanatos stand in this exact spot more than a hundred times, a thousand times. He’s questioned Thanatos about it before, joked with him, and yet now his curiosity is genuine and ignorant all over again. 

“Yes,” Thanatos replies. Perhaps a little too curtly. 

“Seems fun,” Zagreus says. 

He’s being sarcastic. Thanatos knows he’s just teasing, but given the current situation, he isn’t sure that he likes Zagreus acting so familiar with him. 

“It is,” Thanatos replies. He bites his teeth down around the,  _ Are you just here to bother me _ , before he can get it out of his mouth. He knows he’s not actually annoyed at Zagreus and that he doesn’t actually not want him to be here, but sometimes it’s hard to separate the frustration at the situation from frustration at the person. 

“What’s going on in your life these days?” Zagreus asks easily. “I’m trying to get caught up on everything. I’ve been told a hundred times about how I regularly fight my father to the death but I haven’t heard a single thing about you.”

“Nothing exciting,” Thanatos says. “I do my job. That’s it.”

That’s  _ not _ it, but he’s already made up his mind about this. 

“Oh, come on now, Than,” Zagreus says. “There must be something else. Any fun hobbies? New friends? Did you ever find Mort?”

The last question catches Thanatos off-guard. So much so that he answers without thinking, “Yes, actually, I gave Mort to you.”

Thanatos has been making a point of not looking at Zagreus up until now, but he can’t help but glance at him when he says this. He’s rewarded with a grin of surprise so heartbreakingly handsome that Thanatos feels it course down his spine. 

“You did? That’s...so kind, Than. I know how much you loved him.”

Thanatos looks away again, out over the Styx, so Zagreus doesn’t see the color in his cheeks. But in his typical gregarious way, Zagreus is quick to fill the silence that Thanatos lets follow his statement. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asks. His tone is casual, but Thanatos has known him long enough to tell when it’s superficially so. 

“Seeing anyone?”

“Yeah, you know.” Zagreus rolls his neck, adding to his nonchalant facade. “In a romantic capacity?”

This question, too, catches Thanatos off-guard. This time in a way that makes his eyes and throat itch. He doesn’t say anything at first, because he doesn’t know what he possibly  _ could _ . It must be for a moment too long, because Zagreus laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“I’m not asking for any weird reason,” he says. “You’re just so different now. All grown up, you know? I’d be surprised if you didn’t have someone.”

The explanation doesn’t make Thanatos feel better, and he genuinely has no idea if the answer to the question is yes or no. How does he explain this?  _ I  _ was _ in a relationship but my partner lost his memories of it, so I don’t know where we stand anymore _ ? He can’t just say that. Not to Zagreus. 

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business,” he says instead, and turns away. 

He doesn’t think about how the words might come across until he hears Zagreus’s small, forced laugh after a beat too long of silence. 

“Oh, well, alright then,” he says. Thanatos hears the scruff of the chair legs against the tile of the floor as Zagreus rises off of it. “I’ve got to head out, but I’ll be seeing you around sometime then.”

The guilt feels like a tear in Thanatos’s lungs, but he can’t think of any way to fix it now. 

“Goodbye, Zagreus,” he says, because there’s nothing else he can do about it. 

* * *

Distracted by the near-constant ache in his stomach, Thanatos nearly forgets a scheduled check-in with Hades himself. He’s so shaken by it that instead of returning to work immediately after their terse conversation, he decides that he’s earned another five minutes resting beside the Styx to settle his nerves. Just as he’s about to float into the West Hall, however, the sound of a familiar voice makes him pause and duck behind the nearest column, not far from where Cerberus snoozes with one of his tongues lolling out of one of his mouths. 

Despite the murmur of shades and the combined cacophony of Hypnos’s and Cerberus’s snoring and the crackling of the fires throughout the House, he can hear Zagreus’s voice as clearly as the cries of dying mortals in the back of his mind. Thanatos peeks out just enough to see that he’s engaged in conversation with Achilles before tucking his head back in. 

He isn’t eavesdropping. He’s just deciding whether he wants to chance passing by and getting drawn into the conversation or simply going back to work when he hears his name being spoken. 

“Thanatos is a rather private person,” Achilles is saying. “You know him far better than I do.”

“But why does he go out of his way to avoid me? Did I do something to him?” 

Zagreus’s tone is mostly conversational, but there’s something sad in it. Thanatos can’t deny that. He doesn’t understand why, not when Zagreus can’t possibly miss him the way that he misses Zagreus, but there is an unmistakable tinge of something in his words that pulls at the unrelenting, uncomfortable sensation in Thanatos’s chest. 

A moment of quiet follows Zagreus’s questions. Thanatos doesn’t peek, but he can imagine the frown on Achilles’s chiseled face, his thoughtful expression. 

“You know, don’t you, Sir?”

Achilles heaves a sigh. 

“It’s not my place to tell you, Lad,” he replies, “but if it’s any comfort, I am certain that he doesn’t dislike you.”

“What is it, then?” Zagreus asks. “He’s fled just about every time I’ve tried to talk to him. I do remember that we used to be friends as children. What happened to us?”

“Again, I can’t say,” Achilles replies. “I think I may understand his viewpoint, though, as someone who has been in a similar situation. Be patient with him. He’ll come around.”

“How patient am I supposed to be?” The sadness in Zagreus’s voice takes on an irritated quality now. “I can only remember the past few days, but I know that being ignored by him bothers me. I don’t know what I’m to do, since I don’t know what the problem is. How can he punish me for something I don’t even remember?”

“Have you tried to bring it up with him?” 

“I wish he would talk to me long enough for me to ask,” Zagreus says. Then he sighs heavily. “It feels wrong. I don’t remember if we used to spend time together or not, but I miss him.”

The fragility of human life is something that Thanatos is well-acquainted with, but he’s somehow still learning the depths of the fragility of his own heart. This is a new one. He hurts inside his chest in ways that he never has before. 

_ I miss him _ , Zagreus had said. 

That’s what this is. That’s what this growing ache is, all-consuming, like a mortal with a fever that only grows worse by the day. More than despair at losing him, losing their relationship, losing Zagreus’s memories of the precious hours that they spent together, Thanatos simply misses him too. 

There is so much genuine hurt in Zagreus’s tone that Thanatos can’t do anything but believe that his statement is true. It seems that even if Zagreus doesn’t remember anything about their relationship, he does remember Thanatos. Even if all he has to go off of are childhood memories and pure emotion, he misses him still. 

Thanatos can see it now. Can understand what he’s been doing to Zagreus, and how it hasn’t been fair to him. Even if Thanatos is the one who has had to carry the hurt of this, no one ever said he had to do it alone. Maybe it isn’t right to force this on Zagreus, but he hasn’t even given him the choice out of a desire to save himself from rejection. 

Anyway, isn’t that what Zagreus hates most? Things being kept from him? Hasn’t he battled and fought and struggled his way out of the underworld dozens of times simply because he wanted to know the truth? 

It doesn’t seem quite right, now, to hold this back from him. 

Thanatos is so lost in this revelation that he’s tuned out what comforting words Achilles has for Zagreus, but just before he disappears to consider his options, he does hear him say, “Give him time, Lad. It’s going to be fine.”

* * *

Zagreus is lounging on his bed when Thanatos comes into the room.

It’s not something that Thanatos sees much these days. Zagreus had been so motivated to pursue his escape, and then after that to do his job, that rest and sleep weren’t a priority to him. That was something that Thanatos could relate to a great deal, and he’d been happy to see Zagreus so motivated. 

But he must admit there’s something pleasant about seeing someone you care about relaxed and at ease. There’s a short moment between Thanatos crossing the threshold into the room and Zagreus noticing him and looking up, and in that moment, Thanatos drinks him in. The easy lines of his muscles on display, perfectly trimmed and toned. The healthy shine of his dark hair. The handsome curves of his cheeks, the angle of his jawline, the unbothered set of his lips. 

He’s maddeningly handsome, memories or not. It makes something twist in Thanatos’s chest. 

And when he notices Thanatos in the doorway, something like a smile changes the shape of his mouth. 

“Than,” Zagreus says, sounding pleased to see him. The twisting worsens. 

“Zagreus,” Thanatos says. He takes a deep breath to steel himself before he can lose his nerve. “I need to tell you something.” 

Zagreus moves to the edge of his bed to sit up straight and looks at him with his eyebrows quirked. “What is it?”

Despite the time he’s spent rehearsing this in his mind, Thanatos still isn’t sure that he can find the words he needs right now. He lets things be silent between them as he crosses the room towards Zagreus’s bed, trying to reach for the perfect opening. He’s never been particularly good at this. At giving voice to his feelings. At making himself understood. He’s always tried to let his actions speak for him, but this time it seems he has no other recourse. 

He knows he has to do this, though. 

He sits down on the bed, leaving a solid space between himself and Zagreus. 

“You lost your memories,” he starts with. 

And immediately wants to get up and leave. Of course Zagreus lost his memories. Of course Zagreus knows this. 

But Zagreus simply smiles. 

“I did,” he says. 

“I have to tell you something about that,” Thanatos pushes on. “Something about the time before you lost your memories.”

Zagreus merely looks at him, patient, accepting. Thanatos takes a deep breath.

“We were in a relationship, Zag. We were—” Thanatos swallows thickly. “We were in love.”

The grin that’s on Zagreus’s face doesn’t waver. Instead, it turns soft and gently amused. Thanatos searches it as he waits on edge for Zagreus to respond. Tries to pry it apart and find the shock there, the unpleasant surprise, the disgust, the discomfort. But if Zagreus is feeling any of those things, he doesn’t show it. 

“Glad you finally said something, Than,” Zagreus replies. “I was beginning to think that it didn’t matter to you.”

It’s almost as though Thanatos’s stomach physically drops. 

“You knew already?” he asks. 

“My memories have been slowly returning for the past several hours, actually,” Zagreus replies. “It’s not all there yet, but I’ve got enough to know. I was going to tell you but you were out working before and now, well, it seemed like you had something more important to say.”

Thanatos, for a long beat of his heart, is caught between joy and anger. He makes the conscious decision to let the latter pass and instead focuses his energy on the former. 

_ Zagreus’s memories are back _ . 

He must smile, because Zagreus’s grows wider in turn. 

“I’m glad to hear it, Zag,” he says, and his voice comes out a little more hoarse than he’d expected. It’s like there’s something caught in his throat. He’s so relieved, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I’m really glad.”

Zagreus laughs. 

“I thought you might be,” he says. “Now what was that about us being in love? You should tell me more about that.”

Thanatos feels his face heating. 

“You’re already aware,” he replies quickly. 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to tell me again.”

His expression is full of amusement and mischief when Thanatos meets his gaze. 

“Stop being ridiculous,” Thanatos says, but he feels weak like Zagreus’s words have somehow turned all of his bones soft. That Death itself can have such an easily exploitable weakness is the ridiculous thing here. 

But he feels soothed. Beyond relieved. Like every negative thought and emotion has drained from his body, leaving him lighter than air. It is nice to know that he hasn’t lost this. That Zagreus still remembers him. That he still loves him. 

And Zagreus proves it by leaning in and pressing a soft, welcomed kiss to his mouth.


End file.
